Twist of Fate
by Whyte Mind
Summary: This was originally posted as NC-17, but I have edited it to make it R. It's a FF8/FF7 fic. It's slash. It's AU. In the POV of Squall. Mentions of Rape.
1. Default Chapter

*****Warning***:** This will be filled with mentions of rape, **angst, **violence, suicide, crude language, homosexuality, and many other controversial issues, including certain religious beliefs being ridiculed, so far mainly Christianity, (my own religion) and Nazism. If any of this offends you, I suggest you don't read this, because it will get a lot worse in the next few chapters. You have been forewarned. Flames are welcome as long as they aren't about the homosexuality, because I'm _SICK_ of that. Keep that particular opinion to yourself.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or VIII, and the lyrics to All Over Me belong to Live, but the plot line is entirely mine.

**Summary: **Something written in Squall's point of view. It's an alternate universe crossover between FF7 and 8. For those of you who have read Double Vision, these are the events that precede and follow the event of that short story, despite the fact that there are sever discrepancies that need to be fixed. You can read Double Vision first to get an idea as to what this is about, but it isn't necessary.

**An:**  This was originally dedicated to K.N.W., but now another person has been added: to Jamie for his undying love and support.  

            Also, because of FF.net eliminating the NC-17 section, this has been toned down to R.  

            Finally, this is somewhat based on personal experience.  I've mentioned this because of advice from several people I deeply respect.

Truth

~*~Everyone trips over the truth at one point or another. Unfortunately, when the majority of them get up, 

They pretend it never happened.~*~

Live:

Our love is, like water.

Pinned down and abused

For being strange.

Our love is, no other

Than me alone

For me all day

Our love is like angles.

Pinned down and abused. 

Pansy, faerie, wanker, queer, gay, homo, fudge packer, flamer, faggot…

And these are just a few of the derogatory terms used to describe people with different sexual preferences, not to mention the dozens of phrases and sayings that people have created over the years. If I applied myself, I could easily come up with a list as long as my arm for vocabulary used to demean people who prefer their own sex.

Some people believe that homosexuality isn't something people are born with; it's a choice. I ask now, why would anyone in their right minds _choose_ to be subject to the ridicule, prejudice, countless beatings and _rapes_ that people with this sexual preference suffer from _every day_? They would have to be crazy to _choose_ that. Homosexuality isn't a choice, it's something people are born with, or perhaps it is a twisted form of destiny.

Many times, parents think it's _their_ fault their children have turned into homosexuals. They think that because of the way their raised their children or the examples they set led to their children becoming such a _despicable_ thing. Maybe they're right. Maybe they're homophobic and their children are rebelling against their parents' beliefs. Then again, it could also be something their children are _born_ this way, or maybe, once more, it's that weird and cruel fate that led to their soul mates being the same sex as they were.

Finally, there are people who argue that homosexuality isn't natural. When God made Adam, had He _wanted_ for men to like men, He would not have created Eve. Or had He wanted women to like women, He would not have created Adam. Maybe they've got the right idea. Maybe homosexuals are unnatural. I have nothing I can say for _or_ against that. But along that same religious line, there are certain religions such as certain divisions of Christianity or certain Christians that believe homosexuals are evil and will rot in Hell. To that I reply, you may be right. Or maybe they've got it all wrong. At one point, Christians believed that all people of the Jewish faith would go to Hell because they weren't Christians. Later they decided, 'Woops. We were wrong.' Will an atheist go to Hell because he doesn't believe in any god, even though he is more _righteous_ and _kind hearted_ than the so-called _pious _ones? We might as well live in a world full of **Nazis** if people are going to be persecuted for different beliefs, or in this case, sexual preferences.

As for me? Why am I writing this? Some may say I'm pontificating. Others may say I'm writing a personal memoir or a journal to write down my thoughts. Maybe they're right. I don't know. But then, I don't know a lot of things. There is one thing I do know, though. I know why I _want_ to right this. I want those who think homosexuality is a sin, or wrong for whatever reason, to understand what I've had to go through because of my sexual preferences; to understand the horrors I've witnessed done to those who are like me; to understand that I don't need to rot in Hell because I what I supposedly chose, because I'm already living there. And for those who _are _like me, I want them to understand that they are _not_ freaks of nature, and that they should cheer up. Things could be a _lot_ worse. And I do mean that in the _most_ _cynical way._

Now, here's my life story: the extensive biography on my eighteen years of life. If your one of those people who's head is so far up their ass they can't see the light of day, I suggest you leave, because I don't want some ignorant person passing judgement on me. I suggest you read this only if your ready to see, with eyes unclouded by prejudice, the real world. If any of what I've said offends you, don't continue, because I promise it'll get _much worse._

Oh, and by the way, this _is _a personal memoir I plan to right before I end this life and go onto the next. I'm hoping I'll start a better existence, but at least things can't get any worse, right? I've already been to Hell, and nothing could be more painful than that.

_________________

AN: *Sighs* It's good to finally get that off my chest. Now it's been mentioned several times already, but if any of these topics offend you please don't continue reading. It gets much more offensive, and controversial in later chapters.


	2. Bolt From The Blue

*****Warning***:** This will be filled with mentions of rape, **angst, **violence, suicide, crude language, homosexuality, and many other controversial issues, including certain religious beliefs being ridiculed, so far mainly Christianity, (my own religion) and Nazism. If any of this offends you, I suggest you don't read this, because it will get a lot worse in the next few chapters. You have been forewarned. Flames are welcome as long as they aren't about the homosexuality, because I'm _SICK_ of that. Keep that particular opinion to yourself.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or VIII, and the lyrics to Bleed American belong to Jimmy Eat World, but the plot line is entirely mine.

**Summary: **Something written in Squall's point of view. It's an alternate universe crossover between FF7 and 8. For those of you who have read Double Vision, these are the events that precede and follow the event of that short story, despite the fact that there are sever discrepancies that need to be fixed. You can read Double Vision first to get an idea as to what this is about, but it isn't necessary.

**I know in DV Squall was supposed to be 17, and Cloud 27, but I'm meaning to change their ages to 19 and 29.  For those of you who haven't read Double vision, it is not necessary to do so.

_________________

Bleed America

I'm not alone cause the TV's on yeah.  
I'm not crazy cause I take the right pills everyday.  
And rest, clean your conscious, clear your thoughts with speyside with your grain.  
Clean your conscious, clear your thoughts with speyside.  
Salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt.  
Our hearts littering the topsoil.  
Tune in and we can get the last call.  
Our lives, our coal.  
Salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt.  
Our hearts littering the topsoil.  
Sign up it's the picket line or the parade.  
Our lives.

I bled the) greed from my arm.  
Won't they give it a rest now?  
Salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt.  
Our hearts littering the topsoil.

~*~ Bolt From The Blue~*~

It's so strange that such beauty 

Can come from such horror.

I've never liked the cliché conversation bit, "'I don't know where to begin.' 'At the beginning,'" because it's such a stupid comment. Had someone really known where the beginning was, they wouldn't have been having any problems. It goes along with the bit, "'I lost something.' 'Where did you loose it?'" but that's a whole other subject, and I'm rambling.

I don't really have a problem with finding the beginning, seeing as how this is a biography of sorts. My name is Squall Leonhart. I spent the first seven years of my life in an orphanage run by Cid Kramer and his wife Edea. My mother, Raine Leonhart, died giving birth to me, and my father, though he doesn't deserve to be called that, was a bastard who left before I was even born. I don't know what his name was.

I have the blood type AB, which in general isn't that rare, but can cause problems when the hospital is running short on blood…

…But once again, I'm going off subject. I'm not entirely sure when I was born, though I was brought to the orphanage at the beginning of September. I chose August twenty-third as my birthday because it was the same day another child, a girl name Ellone to whom I looked up to as an older sister, was born that day.

Ellone and the Kramers were the only memories I have from my time spent at the orphanage, or at least the only fond ones. I've blocked out the rest of the memories along with so many other things. My heart for one.

When I was seven, I was fortunate enough to be adopted into a kind family. It's very rare for the older children to be adopted because most families only want younger kids, babies mostly, so yes, in most people would consider me fortunate. I, however, do not. The family was a severely religious Christian family, and were also homophobic. While it didn't cause any problems when I was younger, it did later on.

When I was fifteen, I discovered that women didn't appeal to me. I liked them, and could appreciate their beauty, but they were nothing compared to men. I was terrified when I realised this. My adoptive parents had taught me it was evil. I thought I was a freak and would go to Hell. I later learned that there were many other people like me, and I befriended them.

I guess that's what started my downfall. For three years, I kept my sexual preferences a secret from my adoptive parents, cringing mentally every time they mentioned homosexuality. I got exceptional grades in school and was part of almost all of my school teams: football, lacrosse, and rugby. I acted like the perfect child, only to hide what I was from my parents.

Only a few months ago, my parents learned from friends of the family that a friend of mine was a homosexual. They confronted me, and asked me if I'd known. That's when I lost it. I told them what I felt, and they kicked me out of the house. They said I was unholy, and that I was a whore, though before that point, the closest I'd been to sex was a blowjob. That all changed later, but that's all together another subject.

Fortunately for me, a friend of mine had an older sister that offered to take me in. I stayed with her until I was able to get a job at a restaurant and make enough money to get my own basement apartment. It wasn't very big, but fortunately, it was cheep, warm and dry. I had to work all of my free hours, but fortunately, I still kept my grades up enough to be accepted into several of the better colleges.

In the past three months I have lived in four different places. The first was my parents' house, the second, a friend's sister because I was kicked out of the first. I moved into the third place because I didn't want to impose. The reason for the forth move was a man named Zell, my own stupidity, and the monster named Sephiroth.

I met Zell while working at the restaurant. I was his waiter one night while he was there during business. I'm not sure how it happened, but suddenly he started coming around more often, talking to me, giving me gentle touches; a hand on the shoulder, accidentally touching my hand, all of the other classically romantic things. Before I knew it, one night he asked me if I wanted to go out for dinner. I almost laughed at him. It was eleven o'clock at night. But I have do admit, I was quite taken by him. He was charming, witty, and kind-hearted. It helped that he was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. He wasn't tall, but he was well built with eyes as blue as the sky, spiked blond hair and an intricate tribal tattoo on his right cheek. I accepted his invitation with a little hesitation, though. I didn't really know him all that well.

He took me to a small Chinese food restaurant that seemed somewhat run down, I quickly discovered that the restaurant was well known for its food, if not its scenery. We talked more than ate, and I learned he was a twenty-six-year-old lawyer for some large mal-practice firm. He told me he really hated the job, but that it paid well, and in a few years, he wanted to save enough money to start a pro-bono practice for those unfortunate enough to be unable to pay for their own representation. I didn't entirely understand why he wanted to help people he didn't know. It had absolutely to personal gain, but I respected him for it, and I think it made me fall in love with him.

I went home with him that night, though I had no idea of his intentions. To my surprise, we spent the entire night talking, and just lying close to each other. I fell asleep, fully clothed, wrapped in his arms in the early morning hours, and when we woke up, we lay together, talking while he played with my hair. I still believe that that was the best thing that I have ever experienced.

I don't know what possessed me, but I asked him to spend the next weekend in my sorry excuse for an apartment, and he agreed. I think I was in love with him, and I wanted to give myself to him. I thought of him as somewhat of a guardian angle, beautiful and radiant, coming to tell me everything would be fine.

I went to school every day lost in my own private euphoria, and he came to see me every night while I was at work. I looked forward anxiously for that Friday. I was excited because I could spend the entirety of two days with him; nervous because I was prepared to give him something I could never get back. How was I supposed to know that night would change the course of my life for better, but mostly for worse?

When I went to work that evening, I got a call from him from Washington. He was working on a case and wouldn't be able to spend the weekend. I was crushed, but we made plans to get together the next weekend. Zell apologized profusely for not being able to come, but we both knew there was nothing he could do about it.

That night, when I got off work, I decided against taking the city bus home, and opting instead for walking. It was a cool night, and I was hoping to clear my head with the fresh air. It was that single decision, really, that caused everything I had made with the first eighteen years of my life come crashing down. That night I ran into Sephiroth.

Have you ever wondered what the worst possible thing that could ever happen to someone is? 

Is it to lose your life? I don't really think so, because I am Christian, and believe that when I die, I will go to a better place.

Is it then to lose your identity? Maybe, but then again, you could always start again, rebuilding new memories and dreams.

Could it then be losing your pride? Some people might think so… but then again, it is said that pride will be humanities downfall.

Do you want to know what I think the worst possible thing would be? Rape.

When someone is violated in such a way, they lose their will to live. They tend to think themselves as useless. In a sense, they've lost their lives. When someone is raped, they are striped of everything they used to be, and are forever changed. They have lost their spark, the thing that made them who they were. Finally, when someone is attacked like that, they lose their pride. They lose the very thing that makes them human. They are no longer alive; they have lost their soul and are now living only in flesh.

It's not true in every case, and there are many that get over the wounds that they acquire, but they are forever changed, and will never be the same, forever scared, not in body, but in spirit. It's an invisible wound that, contrary to popular beliefs, will not be healed by time. These wounds can only be healed by one thing; love.

Unfortunately, there isn't enough love in this screwed up world. Love isn't what makes the world go round, it's the desire to dominate, the love of violence, and a lot of money that fills that role.

_________________

AN: If you haven't noticed yet, there's going to be mention of rape and violence in the next chapter. For those of you who don't like what's going on so far, in the fourth chapter, things start to get better. All reviews are welcome. Thanks for the support and for stroking my ego.

* * *


	3. Shame

*****Warning***:** This will be filled with mentions of rape, **angst, **violence, suicide, crude language, homosexuality, and many other controversial issues, including certain religious beliefs being ridiculed, so far mainly Christianity, (my own religion) and Nazism. If any of this offends you, I suggest you don't read this, because it will get a lot worse in the next few chapters. You have been forewarned. Flames are welcome as long as they aren't about the homosexuality, because I'm _SICK_ of that. Keep that particular opinion to yourself.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or VIII, and the lyrics to Last Resort belong to Papa Roach, but the plot line is entirely mine.

**Summary: **Something written in Squall's point of view. It's an alternate universe crossover between FF7 and 8. For those of you who have read Double Vision, these are the events that precede and follow the event of that short story, despite the fact that there are sever discrepancies that need to be fixed. You can read Double Vision first to get an idea as to what this is about, but it isn't necessary.

**Well, here comes the really angst.  Hardest thing I've ever written. 

Papa Roach
    
    Cut my life into pieces
    
    I've reached my last resort
    
    Suffocation
    
    No breathing
    
    Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding
    
    Do you even care if I die bleeding?
    
    Would it be wrong?
    
    Would it be right?
    
    If I took my life tonight
    
    Chances are that I might
    
    Mutilation out of sight
    
    And I'm contemplating suicide

~*~Shame~*~

It is a shame that one sick person 

Can taint another's view for so many years.

What happened to me could have been considered my fault. I was stupid enough to go walking though the down town area of a large American city in the middle of the night. I should have known better. The statistics for the rapes and beatings that occur large cities at night are astronomically high. I should know. I've lived here all of my life.

Still, I do have some excuses for my lack of foresight. I wasn't thinking straight because of Zell's cancellation, hence the whole walking home for fresh air. I'm eighteen, and don't normally pay much attention to the news, so all of the statistics don't get to me. Finally, what kind of person ever anticipates this kind of thing happening to them? I'm a teenager. I'm supposed to think myself untouchable, if not invincible.

So, keeping that in mind, I shall continue. I started walking downtown, not noticing the monster shadowing my every move. I've never claimed to be the most observant person in the world, but who's going to notice one of the greatest SOLDIERS the world has ever seen, or would it be ex-SOLDIER, stalking them. 

When I say greatest, I don't mean it lightly. People seem to be natural pessimists, only remembering the worst of everyone they meet, because while Sephiroth had been court marshalled, discharged from SOLDIER and sent to a maximum security prison, he was one of the best strategists the world has ever seen; he would have to have been, seeing as how he escaped from the prison only two days after arriving at the prison, when security was _supposed_ to be at its highest, and people were _supposed_ to watch him like hawks. Notice the emphasis of supposed. I'm no stranger to human weakness, and yes, I am also a pessimist, but on a much larger scale than most. I see the worst in the world, instead of people.

I'm almost positive Sephiroth would have been remembered as the greatest general ever, but something happened on one of his missions, and he snapped. He nearly killed his entire squad by leading them into an obvious trap; the whole time the squad was thinking it was all part of his great plan. In a way, I'm guessing it was a plan, if you count trying to send countless men to their deaths just to get revenge on a lover a plan…

The only reason Sephiroth's plan didn't succeed was because some of the other squad members realized what he was doing. So, all together, things turned out well. The evil psychotic general is sent to prison, the squad flees certain death with minimal casualties, and two young SOLDIERS and another general get to be heroes.

Except, the evil psychotic general breaks out of prison, the squad is divided between other squads for lack of another commander, and one of the heroes dies on his next mission… What do you know, not all things come to a happy ending, despite what certain people think.

And here I am, once again, prattling about common knowledge as though you've never heard it before. This is what happens when you have too much time on your hands folks. I've basically recounted what's been on the news for the past six months. I've probably lost half of the readers because I've gone of subject and they were too impatient to wait for me to get on with my life tragedies. I guess everyone's a sadist at heart.

As I was saying, I was being followed by none other than the evil psychotic general himself, and I didn't have a clue. Half of you are now probably shaking their heads in distain wondering how I could possibly think that such an infamous person was trailing me. To that I can only respond, it's somewhat impossible to mistake a six foot some odd tall man dressed in all black with flowing silver hair for anyone other than him. And then there are the ignorant ones who wonder how I could possibly not have noticed this supposedly conspicuous man. I ask them, what good is military training if it doesn't teach you stealth?

I had no problems until I turned onto one of those secluded side streets. You know, the ones with no lighting, trash littering the street, no people, hardly any better than a back alley. I'm not sure why I turned onto it. Though it was a little longer, I could have gone down a few more streets and then turned up. All I know is that when I turned onto the street, I had that strange feeling of someone following me; like eyes on the back of my neck. It eventually became unbearable, so I turned around. It was then the black clad figure emerged from the shadows and pounced on me.

I've tried impossibly hard to block this memory, but, no matter what I do, I can't. It's one of those things that will be permanently etched in my mind for as long as I live.

I was knocked to the ground, bruising my knees against the hard asphalt surface. I struggled against my attacker to get up, but he was so much stronger and larger than I, and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt a firm grasp on my wrist, and my arm was suddenly jerked up behind my back. I heard more than felt the painful snap of my collarbone; I was too in shock at that moment to actually feel anything, though within moment it would all change. 

Loosing my balance, my head went crashing down onto the pavement, my nose being crushed and my brow splitting open. As my pants were literally ripped from my body, my upper body was forced further down onto the pavement. It must have been then, under the pressure of my attacker that the bones in my arm were broken. I blanked out for a while, and it was then that he raped me.  

            For the time in my life, I honestly prayed to my God, and nameless others. I prayed in earnest with all of my heart. I prayed for it to end; whether the endless torture or my life, I'm not sure, though I suspect the latter.

Yet despite my pleas, it seemed to go on forever; every moment seemed to drag on for an endless eternity. 

When the monster was finally finished with me, he got up, but I could still feel him in me, could still feel the pain. He moved in front of me, and it was then I realised who it was. The silver haired ex-SOLDIER reached down, grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. He pulled something out of his pocket, and the object flashed briefly, catching the moonlight. It was a knife.

I prayed desperately once again for him to take the knife to my throat, but once again, my pleas went unheard. He brought the blade to my forehead and cut a deep diagonal slash across the bridge of my nose, causing the crimson liquid to drip into my eyes, stinging. I looked up into his eyes and saw only insanity there. He didn't know who I was, or even where he was. He just wanted someone to suffer as much as he was. 

He leaned forward slightly and whispered into my ear. "What are you worth now?" he asked mockingly. "Who's going to want you now? You're so revolting, you disgust me."

With that, he pushed me back to the ground, jarring every bone in my body, before walking away.

Though I know he wasn't talking to me, something deep down inside took the words to heart. I _was _disgusting. No one would ever want me. I was worthless. 

Within only a few moments, the thing I was worried about giving away had been taken from me forever.

I must have passed out then, because I don't remember anything until I awoke two days later in the hospital.

When I woke up, I was told the _extensive _list of my injuries. Along with the broken collarbone, the broken nose, and an arm broken in three different places, my ankle was fractured, I had nine stitches in my forehead, and seven in my wrist. I'd quite a lot of blood, mostly from the large piece of glass that imbedded itself in my wrist, though there were also countless lacerations all over my body, and like I said earlier, though AB+ isn't that rare, it can cause problems when the hospital doesn't have any. I was also suffering from a concussion, and with the amount of painkillers they had me on, I couldn't think straight.

Though I'm almost certain the doctors who worked my case how I had been injured, they didn't mention anything. They'd all seen enough like cases to know that most people would rather their situation be left alone. I'm forever grateful for that. Had I had to put up with the numerous rape councillors and psychiatrist that normally were involved, I thing I might actually have killed myself.

Now for what I find somewhat unbelievable:

As far as the doctors were concerned, I had no existent family. My last name didn't match that of my adoptive family, and with my real mother dead, I had no living kin. I was just a man who lived alone. For that reason, I could leave the hospital until my ankle healed, because I would be unable to walk and support myself.

Strangely, the day after I woke, a couple visited me; a man around middle age with a very… colourful…? vocabulary, named Cid, and his wife, or live in girlfriend Shera. When they had been coming home from a bar, they'd seen me lying in the alley, and had called for an ambulance. They had come in to make sure I was okay, and when Cid found out I had no place to go, he told the doctors I would be staying with them. 

Shera wasn't too happy with the invitation, but kept it to herself. It wasn't that she was unkind; it's just that she didn't want to have the responsibility of looking after a stranger.

So, with that settled, one week after being admitted to the hospital, I went home with the strange couple. They did everything they could to make me feel welcome and at home, and after a few days, I managed to get over the awkwardness of living with them. 

There was one time, about four days after I went home with them, that they left me completely alone, I picked up the pair of scissor that had been lying on the table beside me. I'm not sure what I intended to use them for in the first place, but I found myself contemplating how long with would take for a blade like that to cut deep enough into my wrist…

I'm not sure how long I sat like that, wondering whether or not I had the guts to go through with it. It wasn't as though I really had anything to live for. I was useless. The words the silver haired man had said before he left always in the back of my mind. 

I think I probably would have done it, except Shera and Cid came in. I'm not sure what it looked like, me staring rather intently at a pair of scissors, but Cid seemed to remain oblivious. He came in the room and continued talking. Shera on the other hand seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. She didn't say anything, but she looked at me, sympathy and sadness in her eyes. She probably deducted what had happed, but didn't mention it once. Only came up to me and took the scissors from my now limp hands. From that day until the day I left, I never had access to an object sharper than a pencil.

After two months of staying with them, eating their food, just plain mooching off of them, my ankle was healed and I could walk on my own. They were content to leave me by myself at their house while they worked. They'd been taking shifts, watching over me while I was bedridden. They owned a mechanic shop, and had the liberty of making their own hours.

Once I could walk, and they began to leave me alone, I got up, found their spare key, and left their house. I went to the bank, and emptied my account, putting only enough money to by some necessities and a train ticket in my pocket. I'd been evicted from my dingy basement apartment for not paying the rent for over two months. Once I had all of the money, I went back to the house, penned a quick note saying I was leaving, and left nearly all the money I had on the table to pay for the cost of keeping me.

With that, my life ended. Not in the literary sense, but rather, the Squall Leonhart that people knew was dead. No more was the polite, intelligent, active youth I used to be. In his place was a tougher, more reserved, cynical man, who no longer thought the world could be a good place.

I bought a duffle bag, and the necessities to fill it, and bought a train ticket that would take me to one of the SOLDIER's many academies. I'm not sure if it was a conscious decision, or whether or not I just picked that place out of all the possible places, but I guess deep down, I wanted to join SOLDIER. I had nothing else to live for. I told you already that love is the only way to heal the wound rape causes, and I still believe it's true. I'm not going to heal any time soon, because while I thought I loved Zell, I now know it wasn't true. I might have before, but how can I love someone if I despise myself? Also, if I despise myself, how can anyone love me?

No, I'll never fully heal from these wounds, but at least, if I join SOLDIER, I'll have some reason to keep going. Maybe I'll help prevent innocent people from loosing their lives for no reason, or maybe I'll be able to stop people like Sephiroth from doing to others what he did to me. He stole my future.

This was my life story. I'm sitting on a train, writing in a journal about myself, and I have no idea why anymore. It's not like anyone else is going to read this…

Whatever…

AN: Rape is the worst thing that can happen to someone, but it isn't the end of the world.  I know it probably sounds useless, but talk to someone about it.  Not a counsellor, but someone you truly love, and who cares about you.  It will help you more that you can imagine.

­­­


	4. Will

*****Warning***:** This will be filled with mentions of rape, **angst, **violence, suicide, crude language, homosexuality, and many other controversial issues, including certain religious beliefs being ridiculed, so far mainly Christianity, (my own religion) and Nazism. If any of this offends you, I suggest you don't read this, because it will get a lot worse in the next few chapters. You have been forewarned. Flames are welcome as long as they aren't about the homosexuality, because I'm _SICK_ of that. Keep that particular opinion to yourself.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or VIII, and the lyrics to Duck and Run belong to 3 Doors Down, but the plot line is entirely mine.

**Summary: **Something written in Squall's point of view. It's an alternate universe crossover between FF7 and 8. For those of you who have read Double Vision, these are the events that precede and follow the event of that short story, despite the fact that there are sever discrepancies that need to be fixed. You can read Double Vision first to get an idea as to what this is about, but it isn't necessary.

Duck And Run
    
    To this world I'm unimportant just because I have nothing to give,
    
    So you call this a free country? Tell me why it cost so much to live.
    
    All my work and endless measures never seem to get me very far.
    
    Walk a mile just to move an inch, now even though I'm trying so damn hard.
    
    This world can turn me down but I won't turn away.
    
    And I won't duck and run cause I'm not built that way.
    
    When everything is gone there is nothing left to fear.
    
    This world can't bring me down cause I'm already here.
    
    I won't duck and run. No I won't pass away

Effort

~You must do the things you think you cannot do. ~

I carefully placed the leather journal in the black carry bag resting on the seat beside me. All around me my peers were chattering mindlessly, and while I tried to ignore it all, I couldn't, the mindless drivel causing the pressure in my head to build. And yet, I was thankful for it. If it weren't for that, my mind might drift to something important, and I couldn't bear it.

I waited patiently, gently rubbing my temples, for the bus to arrive to its destination. I knew that once there, I would no longer have to depend on the chatter to distract me, because there would be more important things to occupy my mind, and perhaps I could have one night that wasn't plagued with nightmares; one night of simple, dreamless sleep. And maybe, just maybe, there would be a small chance I could forget, simply banish the awful ever present memories for good, so that the pleasant mask I wore in front of everyone would no longer be necessary. So that I could shed the mask before it became permanently fixed.

…And yet, I was afraid to do that. Logically, I knew that people needed human interaction to thrive, but the irrational part of me couldn't get over the fact that last time I let myself become involved, it had ended in pain and suffering, though not because of the person I was involved with. Oh the tricks the mind plays on you. Something subconscious makes a connection between emotion and pain, and now I'm afraid to truly open up to anyone, afraid to let them see the real me, afraid to drop the mask that threatens to consume him. And, however irrationally, the fear of opening up greatly outweighed the fear of losing my identity.

When the bus reached the SOLDIER recruitment base, I closed my eyes and sighed thankfully, knowing how desperately close my thoughts were coming to the oh so forbidden subject.

As I got off the bus I had to squint against the blinding sunlight. Raising a hand to shield my eyes, I looked around. The sight that greeted me was breathtaking. The complex was large and imposing, grey walls reflecting the sunlight and causing them to glow. The landscape around it was nothing like I had expected. There was a forest beside the building, the tall coniferous trees almost as imposing as the complex. I could only imagine what the back held; knowing that the training routine SOLDIER forced on the cadets was the most gruesome of its kind.

When the last of us were off the bus, we were ushered towards the front entrance of the impossibly large building. I looked back one more time at the outside, not quite believing what I was seeing, but absurdly- not happy, because I doubt I'll ever feel that way again- content.

Before being allowed to come to the training base, all cadet hopefuls must take an entrance exam. Only the top hundred are accepted across the entire country, and being one of the top hundred tends to give one a sense of satisfaction, however small.

Once inside, we were confronted by a man with spiked black hair and a younger blond haired one. Surprisingly, when the black haired man spoke, it was much more softly than any of us had expected. Instead of speaking with a harsh bark, it was much more pleasant. 

"Once your name is called, you are to proceed to the table," he began, already ordering us around without introducing himself. I've never really liked taking orders from anyone, whether at school or anywhere else, but taking orders from a complete stranger… It made me feel just a little resentful. "You will collect your room key, uniforms and schedule. You will have half an hour to unpack your belongings and become acquainted with your roommate before you must meet in the cafeteria." The black haired man pointed down the large hallway to our left. "The dorm rooms are down there and the caf. is at the end of the hall. My name is Zack, and this is Seifer. We're here to help you get accustomed to the base."

Wonderful, I thought bitterly. We have a man who's all to use to being obeyed and his lap dog trying to introduce us to military life. I was about to be proven _very_ wrong.

Being in the middle of the alphabet, I was in the middle of the list. Logical, neh? Unfortunately, our roommates were also determined alphabetically, and I was paired with a man, who dressed a little too much like a cowboy, named Irvine Kinneas. He was everything I was not. Out going, congenial, and a ladies man. He kept trying to make small talk, while I answered him with a convenient "whatever" or "It's none of you business." Sadly enough, these things later became my entire vocabulary, unless you could count "Yes, sir, no, sir," in that category.

He was one other thing: a flirt. I'm going to assume he would flirt with anything that walked on two legs, and given my previous experiences, I didn't take too kindly to that. It took us hardly any time to put away our belongings, given the fact that we were given all we required in terms of clothing and weren't allowed many other personal items. I sat on a single bed positioned against the far wall under a window. We both stared at each other in a rather awkward silence, though I pretended to act indifferent. A short while after, Irvine threw his hands up in frustration and stalked out of the room. It wasn't long after that that I got up and made my way to the cafeteria.

Not surprisingly, I was late. The cafeteria, being large enough to hold over half of the SOLDIER academy at any given time, was less than crowded, but I managed to slip in unnoticed. Zack and his lap dog, Seifer were standing on a table in the middle of the room. It's not the kind of thing you would expect at such a top quality facility, but in an odd sense, it was somewhat inspiring. It seemed to act as a way to get the new cadets motivated… I thought about that for a minute, and the conclusion I came to was almost frightening. Zack was talking to the cadets like a leader would to a prospective mob. 

At the time it seemed like subliminal brain washing, or something like that. I now know it's that ability that makes a good leader.

I picked up the conversation as soon as I came in.

"…test results, you are to be given a personalized schedule. You will stick to this schedule until we tell you other wise. If you're lucky, next year you may be given an apprenticeship to one of the SOLDIERS stationed here, like Seifer is. The better you do this first year, the better the SOLDIER partnered with you."

The eyes of the cadets around me lit up in anticipation, ambition or aspiration. They were so enthusiastic about the idea of being paired up with the glorified hero, Cloud Strife. The magnificent man that put a stop to the evil psychotic generals plans to decimate an entire squad. He was one of best SOLDIERS to emerge in the last century, a match for Sephiroth in skill and strength. What he lacked however, despite everyone else's beliefs, was a strategically and analytic mind. 

I found myself having to stop myself from grinning. Despite the blond haired SOLDIERS downfalls, the idea of having him as a teacher was extremely appealing. He had been one of my heroes since before the Sephiroth incident, and I had always thought him to be Apollo incarnated. I felt incredibly sorry for the other cadets. I had no hope of having Cloud Strife as a teacher, someone as well known as he had better things to do with his time than that, and also, I knew that well over a third of the cadets would not pass the first year, and the other two thirds would either drop out after that or be turned into elite infantry. Only the top five or six would even get a chance at becoming a SOLDIER.

My assumptions were proved correct when Seifer took the stage.

"I'm not going to try and discourage you, but only the top sixty percent of this year with go on to the next, and once you're out, you're out for good. No second chances. They use the bell curve to mark each student, and if you're not at the top, you're out. Again, I'm not trying to discourage you. I'm just trying to get you to see the reality of what you're getting yourselves into. The life of a cadet is anything but easy, and a lot of you are going to drop out after the first few weeks. This is going to make high school seem like paradise."

Several of the cadets next to me trembled visibly, and one turned around and walked out of the room. There was general unrest in the crowd. They began to mill about nervously when Seifer didn't say anything else. From my angle, I could see Seifer sit back on his heels, an arrogant smirk on his face. He had wanted to make the cadets nervous, and now that he had, he was probably feeling very satisfied.

Zack bent over and said something to the blond haired man in a very angry voice. Seifer's smirk only broadened. Zack shook his head in mock despair before stepping forward once more.

"The odds aren't _that_ bad," he said, trying to sooth the anxious cadets. Some of them realised how foolish they had been acting and tried to calm themselves down, but it was more for show than anything else, his words did very little to assuage their fears.

The black haired man was obviously cringing mentally at the stupidity and maliciousness of his apprentice. It was _not _the kind of start he had wanted for the new cadets, and he was probably making a mental not to severely injure the blonde boy. I know I would have.

"Are there any questions?" Zack asked after several moments of awkward silence. The cadets shifted nervously on their feet. "No? Well, if you do have any questions, feel free to ask myself or…" he trailed off.

I have a feeling he was going to "Myself or Seifer," but I'm guessing the malignant smirk on the blonde's face made him reconsider.

"Dismissed," the older man finally barked out, and the cadets gratefully dissipated from the cafeteria, myself included. I've never liked crowds, and past experiences have made me feel _quite_ uncomfortable surrounded by strangers. Almost claustrophobic, one might say.

I went back to the dorm room, and when I arrived, I was greeted with an envelope. I ripped it open and took out the single sheet of paper that was inside. Predictably, it was a schedule for the next semester. Along with the normal military training- formations, drills etc.- there would be a course on a weapon of our choice, diplomacy and leadership. Why they were giving us courses in leadership this early on in our training when supposedly only a small minority of us would make it to full SOLDIER was beyond me, but still, "Beggars can't be choosers."

Not wanting to be caught in here alone with Kinneas, I dropped the schedule on the night table and left the room. I decided to explore the building, going into any hallway that didn't have a warning on it and went into any of the classrooms that didn't seem to have any classes going on. Several times I had been mistaken and had walked into a class in progress. I received blank or annoyed stares from both the students and teachers, and would slowly back out of the room and shut the door. Unfortunately, it seems the cadets hold grudges and the consequences of me disturbing them would not bode well from me in the near future.

I never realised how easy it was to get lost in a building as large as the SOLDIER recruitment base. I've normally had a relatively good sense of direction, but seeing as though I'd not seen the whole of the building on the outside, let alone the inside, I had no clue how deep I was into the complex, though I did figure I was somewhere south of the dorm rooms. Using that information, I managed to find my way back to the room I was now sharing with the tall cowboy.

I walked into the room and noticed the taller man was sound asleep on one of the single beds. I looked at the alarm clock set up on the nightstand, the small luminescent red numbers almost impossible to read. It was nearly eleven o'clock. I had been exploring for nearly four hours. Yawning slightly, I removed my clothing and crawled between the soft, new sheets of the bed that was hypothetically going to be mind for the next year. Because of exhaustion from the lack of sleep and today's events, I fell asleep as soon as my head it the pillow, and thankfully, it was a completely dreamless sleep.

AN:  Nothing much to say.  I need to edit this all right now, but for the moment I'll settle with reposting all of the chapters so that they can be R.  If you find something that could be considered NC-17, tell me so that I can change it.


	5. 

*****Warning***:** This will be filled with mentions of rape, **angst, **violence, suicide, crude language, homosexuality, and many other controversial issues, including certain religious beliefs being ridiculed, so far mainly Christianity, (my own religion) and Nazism. If any of this offends you, I suggest you don't read this, because it will get a lot worse in the next few chapters. You have been forewarned. Flames are welcome as long as they aren't about the homosexuality, because I'm _SICK_ of that. Keep that particular opinion to yourself.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII or VIII, and the lyrics to Come As You Are belong to Nirvana, but the plot line is entirely mine.

**Summary: **Something written in Squall's point of view. It's an alternate universe crossover between FF7 and 8. For those of you who have read Double Vision, these are the events that precede and follow the event of that short story, despite the fact that there are sever discrepancies that need to be fixed. You can read Double Vision first to get an idea as to what this is about, but it isn't necessary.

Come As You Are
    
     Come as you are
    
    As I want you to be
    
    As a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy
    
    Take your time, hurry up
    
    The choice is your, don't be late
    
    Take a rest as a friend as an old memoria
    
    Come dowsed in mud, soaked in bleach
    
    As I want you to be
    
    As a trend, as a friend, as an old memoria
    
    And I swear that I don't have a gun
    
    No I don't have a gun

War

~Never start a fight, but always finish it. ~

I woke the next morning to the incessant beeping of a rather loud and aggravating alarm clock. Had it been beside me, I probably would have smashed it or thrown it against the wall. At that time, I was _not_ a morning person. Unfortunately for me, it was on the other side of the room on top of my roommate's dresser. I looked up at that clock. It was six o'clock, and our training regime didn't start until eight. I looked disdainfully at the sleeping man with the long auburn hair, wondering what sort of revenge I should put him threw when he woke up.

Though I couldn't see myself, I'm sure my eyes lit up with anticipation at my idea. Why wait until he wakes up? It obviously takes him quite a while to get ready, and it most likely took the annoying alarm clock a while to wake him up, so why not help him out a little?

I walked over the dresser, violently ripped the alarm clock off of it and whipped it at what I was guessing was the cowboys head under the covers. I was rewarded with a most pleasant thunk and the taller man bolting upright from the bed. I nearly laughed at the dazed expression on his face, but had the foresight to hold it back. It wouldn't bode well do anger my roommate _too_ much on the first day.

Once Irvine saw his alarm clock lying on the bed next to him, he glared at me angrily. I merely shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "It's not my fault."

His glare only deepened, but I ignored it and stalked off towards the washroom to have a shower. It served him right for waking my up two hours before I really had to. What can I say? At that point I was extremely irritable, and had no sense when it came to suppressing my desire for revenge. I guess, in a sense, you could call me uncivilized, because many believe that civilization comes from ones ability to wait to get what one wants. Also, I believe it was that same irritability that led to further problems and quarrels later on in my first few months at the academy.

I slipped into the shower and turned the hot water on as hot as it would go, completely neglecting the cold. It was my morning ritual since I left the care of Cid and Shera: yet another one of my strange quirks that came from the overactive subconscious. I had it in my head that, maybe, if the water was hot enough, I could wash away the filth of what Sephiroth had done to me. Unfortunately, though I repeatedly scalded myself, I was never able to get the water hot enough, because no mater what I tried, I still felt dirty, filthy. Even though it wasn't my fault, I felt tainted, and nothing I tried would get rid if the foulness.

I quickly shampooed my hair and rinsed it out before grabbing a bar of coarse soap, which I then used to scrub mercilessly at my now red skin. It was a painful ritual I performed every morning that gave me a small respite from the taint. 

I stepped out of the washroom, my skin still stinging, with a white towel wrapped around my waist. Irvine was waiting at the door with a smouldering look of anger on his face. I ignored him, and once he was in the bathroom, I quickly changed into the uniforms the academy had provided us with.

With all of my exploring from the previous night, I had no trouble finding my way back to the cafeteria. I picked up a plate and the man, I'm assuming it was a student, because I never did figure it out, piled on it something that bore a small resemblance to hospital food. I also grabbed a cup of coffee.

The foods only redeeming quality was that it was nutritious. It tasted like cardboard and had the same consistency as well. It could have just been me, but for the distasteful looks coming over the rest of the new cadets, I doubted it. As for the coffee, I knew right away there would be no caffeine in it. For some reason, I had piece together during my explorations that an academy such as this one would not give a steroid like caffeine to their cadets without reason, though some might say staying awake is reason enough.

Even so, I have always thought that caffeine is over rated and that most of its benefits are all in the users mind…

Heh… it sounds like I'm talking about some illegal drug… But then again, at this school caffeine would be illegal…

Whatever.

I ate the food and drank the decaffeinated coffee without really tasting anything. Then I sat at the table had chosen and I watched others watch me. Some of them were cadets as green as I was sizing up competition, trying to figure out who they would have to beat in order to get one of the more sought after apprentice positions, whereas others were second or third year students whose classes I had interrupted the day before. They were the ones whom I became worried about, thought at the time I didn't know why. I blamed it on my overactive subconscious, though I've learned over the years that it has some benefits: like knowing when I should stay and fight, and when I should back away and cut my losses. 

Once finished eating the cardboard like substance, I sat and stared at my hands on the table, studying them intensely, as if they were a creature I was about to dissect. 

I found my mind wandering once again to what I so desperately wanted to forget. Trying to push the thought out of my mind, I set all of my focus towards my hands. I studied the blue veins that could barely be seen beneath their covering of pale skin. I memorised the creases in my palm and the way the bones in the back of my hand moved as I drummed my fingers on the table.

Suddenly the cafeteria seemed too crowded, too packed with people. I felt trapped! The room grew too hot, and I was extremely uncomfortable. I tried to calm down, but I couldn't. 

I push away from the table and shot up out of my seat with such force the chair toppled backwards. Over half of the cafeteria looked at me as I stood there. All I could do was wave my hand dismissively before turning and walking out of the room, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead.

I wiped them away with the sleeve of my shirt and started to walk down the hallway where my first class was. I slumped against the wall by the door to catch my breath, thoughts now too scrambled to focus on anything, let alone think. 

It was too late when I heard the footsteps approaching me. Had I heard them sooner, I may have been able to run. 

A group of second or third year cadets gathered around me, and I pushed away from the wall. I knew I needed to escape, but had nowhere to escape to, so I stayed, and put on the impenetrable mask of arrogance. If I were going to be beaten, I was going to do it with style.

The leader of their group, and tall man with, the only word I could think of, large crimson red hair whose name I later learned was Arment. As his group of lackeys circled around me, he stepped forward, as if issuing a challenge, daring me to defy him. Despite knowing what would happen to me, and inspite of all that had happened, I couldn't submit. It wasn't in my nature. I'm a survivor.

"It seems we've found a pup trying to play with the wolves," Arment said to the group, his voice deep and raspy, as if larynx had been damaged when he was younger. Then he turned towards me. "We have the power to make of break you here," he stated threateningly. "That stunt you pulled in the caf. didn't go unnoticed. We don't _appreciate _things like that. It's _disrespectful_."

I don't know what possessed me at the time, but life would have been a lot simpler, and a lot less painful, but emotionally and physically, had I not done what I did. My future may have changed drastically if I hadn't done something that foolish. But then I'm going into the "what ifs" and everyone knows it's impossible to change the past. Even if there were a way to go back into the past, by changing something, you would change the future, and then you wouldn't be able to go back into the past in the first place. It's a paradox, but that's a matter for philosophers and deeper minds than mine.

As I said, I don't know what possessed me, but I spat on the red head's face, my eyes flickering with defiance.

Arment's eyes glowed with rage, and for a split second I thought he was going to take my head off. He then composed himself and turned away. I guessed he would walk away and begin to make my life hell. Then, just as suddenly, he spun back around and his fist connected with my jaw and I stumbled backwards, seeing stars.

I was caught by two of the lackeys and they supported me as their leader delivered several blows to my stomach and face. My lip split and a tasted blood and I knew I would have several bruised ribs by the time he was through. 

Once finished, they dropped me to the ground, and turned around, leaving me to be found when the students headed towards their classes…

…But I wasn't going to let them get away with it that easily. I surged up and threw my fist into the back of Arment head. He stumbled forward a little, and, unable to maintain his balance, fell onto the ground. He reared up and turned to face me, but I was already running, half limping down the hall. He didn't pursue, but was already plotting his revenge for my hit and run attack.

What can I say, I know when to cut my losses, and that it's important to never start a fight, but to always finish it.

Aching all over, I returned to my dorm-room to clean up and do something about the various cuts and bruises. With only ten minutes until my first class, it's needless to say I was late.

AN: Well, since this is the last chapter I wrote in about June, I decided to comment on future updates. I'm not so sure when they will come because I've just started university, but I'm hoping to get at least one chapter up every week or so.  Please don't get angry if I don't.  As usual, any response is welcome.  Please give me feed back.


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